


Everytime I Try to Fly (I Fall)

by BeeInTheMix



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, HEA, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, In my day smut was called lemons, Prince Ben Solo, Princess Rey (Star Wars), Slow Burn, but not detailed in any way, i say medieval but ive not really defined it, its in the past some time, reylo au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:54:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27233077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeeInTheMix/pseuds/BeeInTheMix
Summary: Rey tried to force her muscles to remember their training as she sunk into a curtsy, the bones of her corset biting into her ribs and her head bowed.But - her foot - it caught in the silk of her dress -- and she slipped to floor in a huff of skirts, expression frozen in shock, cheeks burning.She heard him snigger. It was impossible not to, situated as he was directly in front of her. But the Prince covered his laughter in a small cough and reached a gloved hand towards her.“Be careful, princess. The floor is a little slippery right there.”-Worked to the bone in Plutt’s blacksmith shop, Rey has always known without being told she needs to avoid the soldiers from Exegol. They’ve been occupying the Kingdom for years - but their sudden departure leads to Rey finally being found.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 15
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first work I’ve written in literally years, and definitely the first I’ve written for this fandom and on this site. I’ll add tags as I go, but if you see anything that needs amending then please let me know.

Change began on the day Rey made her 5400th mark on her wall.

The small town of Jakku had been occupied for around 2000 of those days. She had known next to nothing about the neighbouring kingdom of Exegol when the invaders first arrived and her knowledge had barely grown in the time of their occupation. All she knew was that the soldiers, called the ‘Sith’ by some of the townsfolk who claimed to know, were harsh and cruel - and she was not to be seen by them.

Rey didn’t know when she’d learned this pivotal piece of information. It had just been enforced from the moment of their invasion by Unkar Plutt, the blacksmith who employed her in exchange for food and board.

Being kept out of sight of the soldiers who often came to the shop to have a new weapon forged or an older blade sharpened was a tricky task, especially as she grew taller with age and the box he shoved her in became more and more cramped. Sometimes, when the box had been moved too close to the fire, she became scared she would die from the heat. But - she survived. And survive she would continue to do until the war was over and she could make her own way.

But day 5400 came, and she never did take control over her own fate. 

It was deep in that fateful evening, while Rey was silently practising her sword skills by candlelight with a decrepit dummy and an ancient bastard sword with so little interest that Plutt hadn’t even noticed had gone missing that she heard the shouts. Shouts weren’t necessarily a sign something was different or wrong. Oftentimes, the local alehouse would stay open past curfew, and a fight would inevitably break out between the soldiers and the patrons who were defending their beer. But the shouts grew closer and closer, eventually culminating beneath her window.

Rey docked her candle, ducked beneath the window ledge and listened as closely as she could through the closed and drafty pane. 

“We’ll need all the weapons we can get... Fuck, I know they’re not a touch on our own forge’s but it’s going to be a fucking bloodbath out there...”. Rey leaned as far as she dared to confirm her suspicions. Sith soldiers, hundreds, some outside the door, others running up and down the Main Street, all in disarray. The greengrocers, the butchers, the bakery, all doors thrown open, candles lit. She could see the baker held by the scruff of his nightshirt, across the road and three doors down. When she squinted, she could see him shake his head; she knew the next day’s bread wouldn’t be ready for hours yet. She could see the Sith soldier slit his throat with his black longsword, see the baker’s wife collapse at her her husband’s side. She could hear the sobbing from down the street and through a closed window. 

She didn’t know the baker’s wife’s name, she was never allowed out of the smith’s long enough to have a conversation, but she always had a warm roll for Rey in the morning.

Pounding began on the door, commands for Plutt to open up, growing louder and louder as the seconds passed. But his footsteps weren’t going down - he was coming up.

Rey barely had time to scoot away from the window, less time even to throw away the bastard sword behind the chest that held her few clothes, when Plutt burst into her room. His meaty hand grabbed her by the shoulder as he poked the finger of his other hand in her face. 

“Now you listen here, girlie,” he growled, splattering spit onto Rey’s face as she tried not to flinch. “I’ve fed you and made sure you lived this fucking long. You’d better remember me and every fucking thing I’ve done for your pathetic little life. I’m expecting gold after this - or I’ll find you and you’ll pay me back in either this life or the next.” He spat in her face then, grabbed her by the neck of her nightgown and dragged her to the corner of her room. 

“You don’t get the fuck out of this until someone who isn’t a fucking Sith tells you to,” his low voice barely audible above the increasing shouts from downstairs. He felt in the grooves of the floor for just a second, then pulled up a floorboard. It revealed a tiny box of floor space, just large enough for her to curl up in and breathe. He shoved her in, then pulled her head up by her hair. “Do you understand me? Don’t you forget a thing I’ve done.” 

As the floorboard was replaced above her and she fell into utter darkness, Rey knew she wouldn’t forget Plutt’s generosity. Those nights when she could barely sleep from hunger, his punches and kicks when she didn’t work fast enough or return with enough scavenged metal to work with, his increasingly crude comments and threats to sell her to a whorehouse.

No, she wouldn’t forget, she thought as she heard the door of the workshop finally open. She wouldn’t forget how he had let her live as she heard his screams from the floors below.

**Day 5401 ******

********

She passed the night cataloging the screams and shouts, constantly scenting the air for signs of a fire, taking deep breaths and willing herself to stay calm in the tiny space and waiting for the sun to rise.

********

Shortly after she’d heard Plutt’s screams for mercy - though how shortly, whether minutes or hours, she did not know - the soldiers had entered her own room. She thought there had been perhaps three, though they must have been in a panicked state as they found her bastard sword but didn’t consider where the bed’s occupant was. Rey considered this a small mercy.

********

Time passed and the light of the day seeped through the cracks in the floorboards. Rey never dared to make a sound, pushing her arms into her stomach when it began to groan in hunger. 

********

Time passed. Then - a creaking. A shadow. 

********

The floorboard was removed and Rey gasped for air like she’d been underwater, staring at her intruder.

********

It was the baker’s wife.

********

“Hello, little treasure.” She managed a soft smile, and reached out her hand for Rey to take.

********

********

**Day 5402 ******

************ ** **

Rumours ran rampant as the tiny kingdom of Jakku spent their second day without the Sith soldiers from Exegol policing their every move. 

************ ** **

“I heard it was King Snoke’s dark knight - he turned on him and killed him with his own sword!”

************ ** **

“I’ve seen Kylo Ren with my own eyes on the battlefield, a terrifying creature! He made the Sith soldiers look like children.”

************ ** **

“Well, I heard it was Prince Ben of Alderaan who led a charge into the Sith palace in Exegol. Queen Leia must be so proud!”

************ ** **

Rey didn’t have time to stop and chat, marching the quiet streets in her patchwork mended dress, hair clinging to her three buns, the final bruise from Plutt still lingering on her cheek and delivering the bread the baker’s wife managed to bake.

************ ** **

She had to keep busy. She had to earn her keep. She had nowhere else to go. The blacksmith was empty; there was nothing to be made.

************ ** **

There was nothing for her.

************ ** **

************ ** **

**Day 5403 ******

************ ** **

********

************ ** **

“Rey! Wake up!”

************ ** **

********

************ ** **

Rey jerked up at the voice of the baker’s wife, knocking at the door of the storeroom, rousing her from her blankets, surrounded by sacks of flour.

************ ** **

********

************ ** **

“Get dressed and come outside!”

************ ** **

********

************ ** **

Rey sighed, pulled herself from her pile, and dressed in her grey, patchwork dress again. She could see flour in the pieces of hair that hung in front of her face, but she didn’t care to clean herself further. What was the point?

************ ** **

********

************ ** **

She picked up a blanket, wrapping it around herself as she stepped onto the cold street. She kept her eyes to the floor to watch her footing before raising her eyes.

************ ** **

********

************ ** **

Three carriages. Horses. People. 

************ ** **

********

************ ** **

A tiny woman stepped before her, squinting at Rey’s face through her enormous glasses. She must have liked what she saw, because she smiled a tiny smile to match her stature, before sinking into a curtsy. 

************ ** **

********

************ ** **

Behind her, soldiers in bright silver armour fell to their knees. 

************ ** **

********

************ ** **

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” the tiny woman croaked as she rose again, “your grace.”

************ ** **

********

************ ** **


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be aware a couple of tags have been added for this chapter.
> 
> Please also be aware that there are tons of historical inaccuracies because I haven't really defined a time period. Just roll with it.

**Day 2**

A piece of metal flicked off from where the big man had been working by the big fire.

Rey picked it up and hid it.

It cut into her finger. The bleeding took a long time to stop. 

She couldn’t cry. The big man had hit her on the head yesterday when she cried. It had made the room spin and she had felt sick.

She missed them. Why had they left her?

The metal scratched a line on the wall in the attic.

**Day 5405**

The carriage was making her feel sick.

Rey had been sat in it for almost two full days and the constant rocking seemed to agitate her stomach wildly. The last time she had been in a carriage had been an extremely long time ago, when she had first been left with Plutt. She did not remember much of the experience, but if she had felt anything then like she did now, she understood completely why the journey seemed to have been removed from her memory.

It did help that she was completely alone, left to wretch into the bucket they had found her without fear of punishment. She was unsure how the carriage ride would have progressed with the tiny woman’s omniscient eyes staring at her through their enormous glasses.

After the tiny woman had addressed her with an address far beyond her station, Rey had known completely that a mistake had been made. Once the baker’s wife had smiled and turned away, back into the bakery, Rey was desperately aware of her inferiority compared to all who surrounded her. Knights with feathers in their helmets, swords polished until they shone like a mirror, shields emblazoned with Alderaan’s coat of arms, kneeling to her? Absurd.

She’d been quickly ushered her into a carriage filled with furs and lined with powder blue silks. A soldier by its door had held his hand out to help her in but she ignored it and grasped the inside of the carriage to help herself in. She hadn’t wanted him to pull her down into the mud when he realised she was a fraud.

The door had shut and locked behind her. The curtains had already been pulled shut over the windows, tinting the interior a cold colour. Then the rocking had begun.

They’d stopped, briefly, for a few hours to rest when night came. She’d been let out of the carriage to find herself in a darkened countryside, allowed first use of a hole in the ground to relieve herself before being enclosed again with dried meats, bread and ale. Soldiers stood in a circle around her carriage through the night with their backs to her. They never waivered.

The summer nights were short, and Rey’s stomach had only just stopped turning when the carriage ride began again.

But she’d never complain, or ask to stop. They’d realise who she was if they let her out for too long or looked too closely. She didn’t want to be caught and sent back.

There was nothing left for her in Jakku.

**Day 5409**

The rocking finally stopped on the sixth day.

Rey was curled up on the floor of the carriage, grasping furs about herself to try to stop the wracking shivers from her nausea. The benches had been over-stuffed and too soft for her back, so she had taken to trying to find some sleep on the floor in the hope of having a moment’s peace.

It had not been the worst days of her life, nor the worst pain that she had experienced, but she had little desire to ever have to live through another trip like it again. 

In the still carriage, Rey slowly pulled herself onto the velvet benches, keeping her head low and her back bowed. Her stomach groaned audibly, but she steeled herself and slowly straightened her back. 

She had to be prepared for those outside the carriage when they realised they had made a grave error.

Rey was concentrating on her breathing, trying to inhale as much as possible, when the door of her carriage opened and she finally saw sunlight for the first time in almost a week. 

The tiny woman with the enormous glasses stood, illuminated by the sunlight behind her. Rey stared at her as she began to smile, surveying her. No doubt smelling the results of her sickness, encapsulated in the carriage for almost a week.

“Good afternoon, my child,” her small but strong voice carried from the feet she stood before the carriage. “I trust you are ready for your journey to begin anew?”

Rey supposed this should have been a momentous moment for the girl who should have been collected and carried in this carriage, but she knew she was not that girl – and so she responded by clutching the bucket once again and vomiting so harshly her throat burned from the stretch of her choking. But – she would not let herself whimper. She would not moan. She did not know how these people would punish her when they realised who she was not. It was best not to show weakness.

She set the bucket back down on the floor on which she had lain for days and turned her face to the woman beyond the door.

There was a pregnant pause as Rey waited. Waited to be recognised, waited to be dragged out, waited to be found out.

Then, there was movement.

“Your highness! You must be tended to immediately,” the tiny woman said, one hand raised to wave soldiers to her side. Two gathered by the carriage door and began reaching forward, trying to touch her, trying to pull – to drag – 

She flinched to the furthest corner of the benches, hands covering her face and her body tucked into the smallest shape she could make. 

Noise blurred for a moment, a ringing in her ears that she struggled to discern from the sounds of the people around her before they fell away, and light began to shine on her face again. 

Slowly she raised her head towards the light and came face to face with a man.

He was aged and rather craggy looking, a thick but well-maintained beard with streaks of grey covering much of his face, matching the thick but trimmed hair on his head. He was wearing the clean and pale robes of a priest, his hands clutched in front of him. His height was not as significant as some of the Sith soldiers who had occupied Jakku, but he was able to look directly in her eyes from his vantage point with his straight and strong posture. 

And it was his blue eyes that, once she had caught, made her begin to relax her defensive stance. They were kind, that much was clear. He was not smiling, but his eyes betrayed a benevolence that allowed her to feel assured. The others may hurt her; she truly believed he would not.

“Would you like to step out and get some air? I have heard that your journey has been long and not at all pleasant.” At this, the man’s face did then break into a little smile, and his head tilted to the left as if observing a child. “It is good to see you once again, Princess Kira.”

Given adequate space and time, Rey slowly began to remove herself from the prison she had lived the last few days in and finally re-enter the bright world. She found herself almost at the foot of an stone castle, but this was not what drew her attention.

She was by the sea, around one hundred feet from a sheer cliff edge. She could smell salt in the air, see seagulls flying in circles in the distance, hear the crashing of the waves far below. She had never seen the sea before.

“A beautiful sight, is it not? To see the majesty of what a power greater than our own can create.” The priest was standing by her left-hand side, and Rey came to realise she had begun to walk towards the water without being cognisant of doing so. She turned to him as he continued to speak and waited for him to continue. “Forgive me, I am Father Luke. I am afraid we have been expecting you for some time.”

He started to walk towards the castle, following the cliff’s edge though at a distance. She followed, and he paused while he waited for her to catch up to him. No oen had waited for her before.

“Ahch-To is one of the castles of Alderaan, though we are at the Western edge,” Father Luke explained, gesturing to the sea beyond the cliff edge. The castle became more imposingly large as they approached, a structure that looked ancient already but well-looked after. “The royal family used to use it as a retreat occasionally when the stresses of the city become too great and during the summer months, but they have not been in residence for a long time.”

Rey turned her head to him and furrowed her brow questioningly. Who would not want to live here forever? It looked magical, like all the whimsical creatures she had heard the schoolteacher tell her pupils about when she had tried to listen through the window of the schoolhouse. She pulled the fur blanket tighter.

“The royal family had been slightly… disjointed these last few years. Indeed, the Queen has spent more time in the kingdom of Coruscant these last two seasons, trying to broker peace. It is my hope she will return here soon, however. And with her son and husband, if we are so lucky.”

They had approached the drawbridge, lowered already across an imposing moat of water. Lost in her appreciation of the castle as a whole, she saw now that the soldiers lined the way inside, stood to attention with their swords clutched in both hands facing downwards. She pulled the blanket tighter still and hunched her shoulders, trying not to be noticed. 

She should not be here.

“I have to apologise on behalf of our royal family for your trip,” the priest continued. “It was not her majesty’s intention for you to be uncomfortable. The hope was for you to arrive here, unhindered and uninjured. The Sith soldiers have been defeated, but there is no accounting for the grudges that they may hold still.”

With this, they began to enter the thresholds of the castle, crossing an enormous courtyard lined with more steel-clad troops. Their bright metal armour was a great contrast to the dark, almost black that she had known of the Sith. It was like night and day. 

Finally, they entered the castle proper. It was overwhelming in its size, floors of swirling white and grey in a material Rey did not recognise, busts of people she did not know sat on plinths, paintings hung on the walls of likenesses she had no recollection of. There were enormous sets of wooden doors lining the sides of the hall, and rugs of deep colours taking up space on the floor and hanging from the walls. Light shone in from a window above the great entrance behind her, but lighted plinths gave the hall the majority of its light. A great staircase rose before them, made of stone, that split into two close to its peak, splintering into two more walkways leading to rooms Rey could not see. She knew the colours, the deep purples and reds and blues, but she had never seen fabric of such a scale made in them. The dyes were beyond the wages of any from the tiny kingdom of Jakku. The room was beyond Rey’s reckoning.

She began to feel sick once again. 

“I’m sure you must be overwhelmed,” Father Luke quietly murmured to her left while she took in the extravagance. He never expected a reply from her. She liked him. “But there is a place I am sure you are eager to see that will put your mind at ease before you retire to your chambers to rest. This way,” he motioned to one of the wooden doors lining the area further to his right. She followed him dutifully when he approached, and the doors were opened for them by two servants, impeccably dressed in their grey trousers and bright white tabards. Dimly, she heard the padding of the tiny woman wearing the enormous spectacles as she followed behind.

He had led her into what seemed like an enormous corridor, decorated in a similar fashion to the room before it. While initially she thought it was a passageway, she came to realise that it was a room to observe further paintings, all of people seated and looking to the painter in a similar way. 

“This is our gallery of portraits,” the priest said after a long pause. “You will find the majority of the Alderaan rulers are represented here through paintings. Here are the oldest and most ancient of the monarchy, reaching further into our present the closer we reach the sea-facing wall.”

They walked down the length of the room, the Priest a bright white spot next to Rey’s drab, grey clothing, threadbare and wrapped still in the borrowed fur of the carriage. She could still hear the tiny woman behind them.

At length, they reached the far end of the room.

“Here, here is what you should like to look upon,” the priest stopped, turning to a painting illuminated by a window on either side that looked upon a small garden on either side. It framed the picture nicely, surrounding it in a bright, vivid green. “Once the invasions began, the Queen worried greatly for the art that documents our shared past. Her husband, the Prince Consort, took matters into his own hands. If rumours are to be believed, he and his personal guard managed to infiltrate the Palace of Exegol while his wife was attending matters in Chandrila and away from their main residence. Regarding Prince Han, I believe all rumours to be true,” Luke’s smile had become a true smile now, reaching his eyes. He turned to share a knowing look with the woman behind, but Rey barely noticed. She had become transfixed with the painting’s occupants.

It was not a portrait of a single person, as all the others she had passed had been. No, this was a pair – a couple. A man and a woman. He sat upon a great carved, wooden chair, one arm resting on its armrest and the other resting on his knee. He had a kind face, dark brown hair, a nose that looked shockingly familiar. Stood to his side was a woman with bright hair, her hand placed on his shoulder, wearing a dazzling dark red dress that matched her husband’s tunic and jacket. Her sweetheart mouth also suggested a kindness similar to the man beside her and evoking a strange sense of deja vu.  
Their complexions, her regal forehead and his slightly pointed chin, all looked familiar to her. Upon their heads were two golden circlets, embellished with obsidian and diamonds.

They looked like they were smiling at her.

“Your parents,” Father Luke said softly to her.

And she knew it to be true.

Rey stared for what felt a long time when eventually the Priest began to speak again.

“I think it must be time for you to rest, Princess Kira.”

No thought had seemed more pleasant for such a long time, but she struggled to tear her eyes from the likeness of her parents and turn away. 

But when she did, another portrait caught her eye, directly across from where she had been standing. She could not help but pause again.

He was tall, she could tell from his stance in his painting, stood with a hand placed on the hilt of a great sword. His hair was uncovered but longer than any man’s she had seen before. It was pitch black, ending just above his imposing shoulders. His features were slightly unbalanced; his nose a little too long, his forehead a little to high, his mouth a little too full. His eyes a little too bright. He wore a deep purple jacket, engraved and embellished with an untold amount of jewels that must have been distressingly heavy to carry but his posture remained straight. His look displayed someone of power, haughty even, from the expression of indifference on his face down to his muscled legs outlined in his breeches.

“My nephew, the Crown Prince Benjamin of Alderaan, Chandrila and Naboo,” Father Luke explained. “I hope to see him again soon.”

She began to be ushered from the gallery, back to the main hall, but could not stop but glimpse once more over her shoulder.

The man in the painting had been intimidating – but from their own portrait, her parents were smiling at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you it was a slow burn.

**Author's Note:**

> If you couldn’t tell, this is going to be a sloooooow burn. Like, slow slow. They’re snails, really.


End file.
